The Tilt of the Axis
by GinnyNoTonic
Summary: Ross Barton and Aaron Livesy have an altercation.


THE TILT OF THE AXIS

"How dare you fuck my brother to get at me! Haven't you done enough?"

I'd followed the other man into the gents in the Woolie, meaning to have it out with him. I'd been avoiding him since he came back from France right into the fuck-up that ended up with Donna—shit! No! Not going there, not ever going there. Afterwards he was away for a few weeks, banged up. Best fucking place for him, if you ask me. But then he got out again. The stupid judge gave him a suspended sentence and that's when he started sniffing around Finn.

And Finn's too soft to tell him to get lost. So I'm doing it for him, in a way he'll understand.

I shoved him hard against the wall and for good measure kept my arm across his neck as I glared into his eyes.

For a moment it was stalemate then he pushed back, his full body-weight shoved against me.

"Finn knows exactly how things are between us, not that it's any of your damned business! And for the record, I didn't fuck Finn, he fucked me!"

"Liar!" I spat before the image even had time to register in my mind. He laughed then, the fucker!

"When you both like taking it up the arse, someone's gotta switch."

He shoved hard again then, forcing me away this time. I didn't bother fighting back.

"Just don't mess him around or you'll have me to answer to," I snarled.

"Like I'm scared!"

The door slammed behind him and I was alone. Aaron fucking Livesy, best friend of my new brother, Adam. Why couldn't he be fucking him instead of my real brother, the baby of the family. Finn didn't stand a chance.

I undid my jeans, might as well take a piss before I go back to the bar.

It was only as I took myself in hand that I realised: Aaron had been hard. When his body had pressed against mine, he'd been rock hard.

The perverted fucker.

I would have liked nothing better than to keep right away from him, that was my plan, that and ignoring him every time I saw his smug face. And if I lived in a city, or even a town the size of Hotton, I dare say I could have managed it. But this was fucking Emmerdale where everybody knew if you sneezed and almost everybody knew if you jacked off too enthusiastically.

So I did my best to pay him no attention every time I saw him in the Woolie. Why the hell he didn't fuck off to that Bar West place or some fancy gay-boy bar in Leeds, I don't know, but he seemed happy enough propping up the bar in the Woolie, and nine times out of ten, Finn and Victoria would be there beside him, all of them laughing. I had my pint for company and thankfully they left me alone.

It's not that I didn't want company, just not their company. Since Donna—shit! I don't want to think about her so much, because God, it hurts, and however much I try, she's always there. And nobody understands. They don't know what we meant to each other. What I thought we meant to each other. Because now I don't know. I can never ask her why she didn't tell me how ill she was. I can never ask her why she made plans to be with me when it was all a lie. I can never ask her why she took the coward's way out and jumped and was still the bravest person I know.

"Ross!" Debbie's voice cut across the garage yard and intruded on my thoughts.

I eased myself out from under the car where I hadn't really done much except stare at the steady ooze of oil for the past twenty minutes.

"What?"

"Where are the keys for that Discovery? Aaron's decided he's fed up of being a layabout and is gonna take a look at it for us"

"You're not serious?"

I scooted right out from under the vehicle and there he was, standing fractionally behind Debbie, grinning at me over her shoulder. Fuck.

Of course, I should have expected it, they were cousins after all. And Auntie Moira was married to his uncle. Uncle? Wouldn't be surprised if the apple fell a damned sight nearer the tree than uncle. Whatever—all in all, it was pretty incestuous.

"I was gonna look at it after I've finished this one." I nodded at the Vectra above me.

"Well now you don't have to!"

She glared at me, her eyebrows raised, daring me to say anything.

I didn't. We've got history and I'm damned lucky to still have a job. I didn't for a while; actually, it was a shock that she took me back. It's a few months now since she threw herself at me, offering it on a plate. I turned her down; she's not really my type, all sharp, feisty angles. She's not forgotten so she takes every opportunity to bitch. Not that I care, water off a duck's back to me. But there was Aaron now, watching me, ready to take my job.

"A brew would be a good way to start the day. Coffee, strong, just a splash of milk," he smirked.

"Fuck. You."

I scooted back under the Vectra and tried to ignore the twin sniggers as they receded into the garage.

I finished the motor and moved on to a pick-up. I ignored the man working across the yard, only allowing myself a silent chuckle when I heard him curse as the engine fought back.

The pick-up was giving me its own grief. At last I decided I needed a break and stood, glaring at the infuriating bit of machinery, stretching my aching muscles. Fuck! It was about time Debbie thought about up-grading and getting pits and a ramp, save us contorting ourselves to reach the bits other mechanics could reach with ease.

I glanced over at Aaron. He was leaning under the bonnet, working deep inside the engine. He'd slid his arms from the top of his boiler suit, leaving it hanging loose at his arse, his tee shirt stretched tight over his chest.

He turned.

"Like what you see?"

Suddenly the pick-up was the most interesting thing in my universe. I gave it all my attention, hoping I had moved quickly enough that Aaron hadn't seen the colour blaze across my cheeks.

I successfully ignored him for the rest of the day but fuck, was I glad when it was time to head home.

Home. Now there's a moot point, where the fuck is home? Since before dad lost our farm, it feels like I've been camping out, dossing on floors and crashing on sofas. And I know I've kinda burnt my bridges with a few folk—I am by no means ideal son, nephew or brother material, but sometimes it just seems like it's easier for them to say "oh, Ross did it," or "it's Ross's fault" rather than take a real look at what's going on. So yeah, I act up, they expect it and yeah, it's got me into bother, but I'm not setting out to be an angel. And when it's cars and stuff, no one really gets hurt. Except one time... and I really didn't mean that.

So I'm crashing at Andy's just now, he's hardly there and Adam's as bad. There's usually a bed to spare anyway.

I stripped my overall off in the kitchen, I am house trained, well, most of the time and flung myself down on the sofa. I meant to switch on the telly, but fuck it, I was comfy now.

I didn't intend to sleep, and it was only when I woke with a start, I realised I had dropped off. After registering my surroundings, I closed my eyes again, trying to remember the dream that had been playing through my sleeping mind. I couldn't, must've been good though, I was half hard already. It was easy enough to grab one of the magazines that always live under the sofa—a few quick tugs finished the business.

If it hadn't been for the mess cooling and congealing on my stomach, I wouldn't have moved. Okay, I should have been prepared with a towel nearby, but I was never in the fucking boy scouts! Eventually I made it to the shower.

There was no sign of Andy or Adam by the time I came out of the shower, but that was no loss, I'm perfectly capable of going to the pub myself.

There weren't many people in the Woolie and I could sit at one end of the bar and enjoy my pint and a glance at the paper in peace.

Didn't last though. The door crashed open and Finn and Victoria burst in, giggling their silly heads off. Really, why does she hang around with him? I know he's my brother, but she's such a fag hag.

And oh great! There was Aaron following them in! Was there no escape from the bloody man?

Finn and Victoria were already at the bar, thankfully at the opposite from me. Aaron joined them, standing behind them and draping his arms around their shoulders. They were all in good moods, I could hear them laughing like fucking hyenas.

I ignored them.

Finn didn't seem to realise this. Maybe his specs were dirty.

"S'up bro?" he slurred.

Bro? Really? "How much have you had to drink? And what are you doing still hanging round with him?"

"We had wine at Vic's while she was getting ready."

"Wine? You didn't get in that state with a glass or two."

"A bottle. Maybe a little bit more. Aaron's really good a picking the nice stuff, he learned in France."

I couldn't help my snort of disgust. "Why the hell are you hanging round with him," I repeated.

"He's okay, Ross, you should give him a chance."

"No fucking way," I snarled. "Not when he's… you're..."

"We're not! Not anymore. He's not really my type and I'm not his, we're just friends now. You're much more his type."

"Fuck off!" I slammed my glass down on the polished wood bar so sharply that it slopped over the side. The noise drew the attention of everyone in the pub. Cursing wordlessly, I stormed through the swing doors and marched out of the open front door.

My heart was pounding; I could feel it banging in my chest and for some reason my breath was heaving as though I'd run a mile. I could feel the anger sparking through my veins, making my skin tingle.

I stopped at the benches that flanked the front of the pub. Although it was a warm evening, the light was beginning to fade and the tables were empty.

"What the fuck is your problem with me?"

I hadn't heard anyone behind me. I jumped at the accusing tone.

"I don't have a problem with you—now you're not fucking my brother!"

"Is that what he's telling you?"

I lost it then. In seconds we were scrapping, crashing against the tables and rolling onto the floor, fists flying, throwing punches, gasping in pain and with effort as they found their target. I got a few good blows in, not holding back but reeling as my fist hit solid muscle. I thought we were well matched and I had always been good with my fists but to be honest, I was finding it hard to hold my own as he overpowered my initial burst of fury and I knew by the time we were finished I would be marked with the bruises from his punishing punches

One blow landed me flat on my back. My breath heaving, I could taste blood. I struggled to rise, determined to retaliate but suddenly he was on me, straddling my body. I jerked my arm back.

He caught my wrists, hauling my arms above my head and pinning them there.

My breath was coming in uneven gasps, my chest deeply rising and falling as I struggled to pull air into my lungs. He was on top of me, glaring down at me, his own breath ragged.

Suddenly I was aware of our bodies' proximity. His muscular thighs clenched against my legs, our groins close. I could feel...

Oh God!

I heaved, trying to dislodge him before he could feel me hardening beneath him.

Fuck no! This couldn't be happening. Why? I don't fancy guys, I've never...

His eyes are so dark; I thought they were blue, but in the shadowed light cast by the street lamps, his gaze boring into me, stilling me more than the grip of his hands around my wrists, was black.

The half-light illuminated all the planes and hollows of his face, casting an unearthly air over him. But I could see his full lips, slightly parted, and his tongue flicking out to moisten them.

I couldn't take my eyes from his lips.

Time stood still. Everything disappeared, the Woolie, everyone still inside, still enjoying their Friday night. The village... I counted my heartbeats... there was nothing but us.

Suddenly his lips were against mine. He moved, ducked his head and kissed me before I realised or responded.

He was harsh, enthusiastically demanding, crushing our mouths together, his tongue pushing against my lips, tasting me but never forcing entry. There was gentleness there too.

I was rigid under him, my body and my cock. I was hard and hurting and terrified. I shouldn't be so aroused. I couldn't be so aroused.

But I was.

Despite myself, I relaxed into the kiss. My lips parted a fraction, my hips eased upwards, rolling in an unconscious movement as old as time, needing the pressure and friction against his body.

Immediately he sprung back, releasing my hands, fracturing the connection between our lips, our bodies. Gasping, he scrabbled away from me, rising as he stumbled backwards, not taking his stricken eyes from my face.

"That was... I'm sorry."

Without another word, he was gone, turning on his heels then breaking into a run and disappearing from my sight.

I heaved myself onto the bench, still trying to catch my breath and make sense of what just happened.

It had taken seconds, a minute at most. My mind felt repulsed. I rubbed harshly at my lips, trying to remove the memory of his pressed against them but however much I tried, it seemed impossible. My body was singing. My cock was still hard, my skin tingling, alive with something akin to an electric current running through me.

It made no sense. I hated the feeling.

I'm straight. Definitely straight; I was in love with Donna, we'd made plans before... yet I'm not freaking fucking out? Why?

I rubbed my hand across my chin, remembering the scrape of his stubble scratching against my short beard. And even now, with his running footsteps echoing in the dark street, I am still hard.

The rest of the evening... just passed. It was a haze, a blur; I didn't go back into the pub but I didn't go home—well to Adam and Andy's—either. I wandered, aimlessly at first. Thank God my erection calmed a little, I felt too raw and wrung out to deal with it without messing my head up even further. Because it wasn't my hand I pictured there, nor a soft and delicate, tentative hand but the unholy thought that took my breath away was the sudden vision of a larger hand. A hand that knew how a cock worked, knew what sensation each twist and tug would give, each subtle touch increasing my orgasm.

The cricket pavilion was empty and in darkness. I sat on one of the benches sheltered under the wide porch and stared into the night across the field. I was looking for answers but I only got questions, one of them being why, and however much I replayed the events of the evening in my mind, I couldn't find an answer.

I had let a guy kiss me, I hadn't quite kissed him back but I had responded, been aroused, got hard and in the darkness, I could admit it to myself, I had been disappointed when it ended.

It just seemed too big, a seismic shift in "me". I closed my eyes, picturing Donna's face, the way her thick, dark hair swung about her face, her velvet chocolate eyes, her smile, that last smile... I bent forwards, pressing my fists into my eyes until I saw stars, replacing Donna's face with others, a string of women, some whose names I couldn't even remember. Oh no, it wasn't as if I was unpopular with the ladies; a lot of them liked a bit of rough, a bad boy. And I liked them, their smell, their curves, the pillows of their breasts, but looking back, I don't remember the spark, the electricity coursing through my veins as it did for that minute with Aaron.

So what the fuck was the deal with not being able to get the image of Aaron wiped from my mind? Of him poised above me the second before he kissed me. Did I imagine the moment the mockery left his navy eyes and anticipation took its place? I couldn't mistake the way his body felt pressed against mine. It was just... so different.

I jumped up. I had to do something, hit something, nick a car and feel the high of not getting caught, anything to banish the itchiness of my skin, the feeling that I was going to burst with something I couldn't begin to admit or control. With need.

I jumped off the veranda and started heading towards the village. I needed to see him, where would he go? The pub? No. His mum was there. Adam's? Maybe, but was Adam up at the farm tonight? I started along the track that lead first back into the village and then along the lane that would take me to Butler's Farm.

I walked quickly, breaking into a trot, then running, the need to push myself to get there as fast as possible, overwhelming. That I could have just 'borrowed' a car from Debbie's garage didn't occur to me.

The tarmac beneath my pounding feet was a relief, the movement, the activity, doing something felt far better than sitting brooding over that kiss.

But it wasn't far enough. All too quickly the out buildings of the farm came into view, shadows looming out of the darkness, then the farm house itself, lights blazing, and parked at an untidy angle outside, the car Aaron had been using since his return from France. I pulled up sharply; I needed a minute to catch my breath.

They were in the kitchen when I barged in, Aaron, Adam, Auntie Moira, sitting around the large table, full mugs in front of them.

"You! Outside, now!" I snarled at Aaron.

"Hey? What is this? Ross?" Auntie Moira sprung from her seat, taking a step towards me.

"Nothing to do with you."

"Don't speak to her like that!" Adam protested, albeit rather weakly. "I'll come with you, Aaron."

"No. You won't. This is between me and Aaron."

"It's fine, Adam, just stay here, I won't be long."

"What have you done now, Ross?"

Aaron and Moira spoke at the same time, their voices clashing.

"It's always me, isn't it?" I glared at Moira, taking a little satisfaction at the uncomfortable look that passed briefly across her face. "Do you ever even consider that for once it might not be me?"

I held her eyes for a moment, feeling sick at the hurt I felt wash over me, knowing I had hit that particular nail on the head. That is exactly what she thought of me. What they all thought of me.

I turned on my heel and walked out, not really caring now if Aaron followed me or not.

He did. I heard the back door slam and the clatter of his feet on the cobbles, running to catch up with me as I stalked across the yard.

I headed for the barn, stopping just inside and turning to face him.

"You fucking pervert!" I snarled at him the minute he was close enough to hear my low voice. "You fucking kissed me! Why? Why did you do it?"

I could hear the edge of panic in my voice, near hysteria threatening to take over. I could feel myself beginning to shake. I clamped my lips together, afraid I might start babbling nonsense if I didn't shut up.

"Ross."

"No! Don't come any nearer!" I snapped as he took a step closer to me. I ran my fingers through my hair, I could feel sweat beading on my skin although the evening was cool and I was feeling chilled after my hasty run. "You stay away from me! I'm not like you; I'm not a filthy queer!"

Panic surged through me, edged with rage. How dare he think I was like him! How dare he touch me! How dare he make my body respond!

"Ross, I'm sorry."

His quiet words cut through my stricken internal rant.

"I'm sorry; I was messing with your head..."

"Fuck you! What fucking right...? Who do you think you are that you can do that to anyone?"

"I've said I'm sorry."

"And that makes it alright?"

"It was a kiss, Ross," he snarled, his calm breaking at last, "nothing more! Just a kiss! I'm sorry I invaded your precious straight space! I'm sorry I couldn't stop myself kissing you, but don't act like I popped your fucking cherry!"

Even in the gloomy light of the barn, I could see his eyes blazing, his body trembling with emotion.

"Have it then! Fucking have it—here!" I dragged at my clothes, throwing off my jacket, hauling my jumper over my head.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"Giving you my arse. That's what you want, isn't it? To pop a straight boy's cherry?" I began undoing my jeans. I was shaking with anger, with some other emotion I didn't want to examine too closely.

"Stop it Ross! I don't want your arse—or anything."

He looked flustered now, bemused, not so damned sure of himself.

"What? Pretty little Finn more your type after all?"

"I've told you we're not…"

"Like I believe you," I hissed, turning away, intending to leave.

"Ross—"

He gripped my arm, halting me. His fingers burnt my arm, the heat from his touch searing my skin through the layers of my clothes. Electricity sparked through my body, short-circuiting directly to my groin. All of a sudden, I couldn't catch my breath, my heart was pounding, making me feel dizzy.

I spun round, my hands ferociously gripping his face as I crashed our mouths together. There was nothing hesitant about this kiss, I was demanding, pushing my tongue into his mouth. I could feel his surprise before he opened for me, letting me take him, taste him. His moan inflamed me further; I pressed into him. Eventually, lack of oxygen forced us apart, both of us gasping for air, chests heaving, as we glared at each other.

Suddenly I had to touch him. I scrabbled at the bottom of his hoody, my fingers seeking his skin. I couldn't have stopped the groan of pleasure that escaped from my lips as I felt the warmth of his body if I had tried. I didn't try.

I tugged hard at his clothes, loosening them enough that I could run my fingers over the tight muscles of his back. Without thinking, I thrust against him then began fumbling at the button at the top of his jeans.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

"I don't know—show me." My voice was a whisper, instilled with confusion, agitation and the damned need that I couldn't express except by rolling my hips against him, the unconscious gesture making me catch my breath at the satisfying pressure.

"Stop it!"

He put his hands on my shoulders, trying to push me away.

"No! I want to!"

"You don't! You can't!"

I didn't answer. My unsteady hands returned to my jeans to continue undoing them. I was shaking, my whole body trembling, tingling with excitement and fear. I wanted this, wanted to feel his hands on me, wanted to touch him in return. And I was scared witless.

My head was dizzy with the thoughts running through it. This was madness, I'd never wanted a guy before, especially not Aaron! Why Aaron, who I blamed for so much? It made no sense but I felt as though I would explode if I didn't get… something.

"Ross…"

I could hear the turmoil and anguish in his voice as he gripped my wrists and tried to still my movements.

I bent my head and kissed him again, leaning into him, letting him feel the hardness of my cock, the need and desire in my kiss.

He groaned, I felt it all the way though my body and in the tangle of our tongues, and I knew that was the moment he surrendered.

His hands took over the struggle to push my jeans from my hips while I transferred my attention to his clothes.

With our trousers pooled at our knees, he pushed me a step or two backwards until we were leaning against one of the head-high partition walls and I was held fast against his chest, his arm behind me, securing me.

He spread his legs and settled himself against my hip, thrusting against the bone once or twice before he grasped my cock and began to jerk me off, his grip firm and sure, just this side of painful.

I caught my breath, holding it for a few seconds as sensation overwhelmed me and I arched my back, pushing into his tight grip. He moved slightly, his arm holding me attaining enough freedom that his fingers could worm their way under my clothes and find my nipple.

I melted against him. Jolts of electric sensation flashed between my chest and groin as he touched me in a way no woman ever had, hard and confident in his touch.

My body was wired, my mind flying, every sensitized nerve ending on fire as I soared until suddenly my crescendo engulfed me, I was over the edge, my release fountaining over his hand. I couldn't help the sob wrenched from my body as I shuddered through the spasms.

He held me, murmuring gently as I regained my breath. It didn't occur to me that he was still hard, pressed against me and unsatisfied.

I looked up, into his eyes, eyes holding none of the hostility that had simmered between us.

"Okay?" he asked.

I nodded, then coughed, suddenly needing to clear my throat. "I want more, want it properly," I ground out, turning my face away to hide the raw need I couldn't explain.

"Properly?"

He looked at me, puzzled, until it dawned on him what I meant.

"Ross—I can't—you're not into men!"

"But I need this! I need to know what it feels like—"

"Bloody sore first time."

"What?"

"You'd be tight, you'd need stretched—God, why the fuck am I even talking about this to you?" He spun away from me, running his fingers distractedly through his short hair, leaving it spikily dishevelled.

"Because I want to know and I'm asking you to show me... but if you're not man enough, I'll find someone who is!"

"Fuck you, Ross!" he glared at me. I could see his chest heaving with each breath and his eyes blazing.

I held his gaze, defiant, until he broke away cursing.

I sank back onto the bales of hay behind me and closed my eyes. I heard the door of the barn thud close as he left.

I breathed deeply, the fragrant smell of the hay wafting around me as I moved.

I snapped my eyes open. The click of the door in the silence sounded unexpectedly loud.

He stalked over to where I stood. His dark brows were still drawn together in a frown. "Are you serious about doing this?"

I nodded, I didn't trust my voice not to break if I tried to speak. I didn't understand it, I couldn't name this feeling, this overwhelming need.

"Had to get a few bits from my car."

For the first time, I noticed he had something over his arm and something else in his hand. He looked at the bales behind me then dropped what he had been carrying and started hauling them about. It took me a moment to realise he was building a nest. A fragrant pit surrounded by sheltering walls of hay. It was a blanket he had been carrying; now he spread this over the centre of the nest.

"You can still change your mind…"

I swallowed, said nothing, only gave the tiniest shake of my head.

Finally a smile touched his lips, transforming his face. So often we glared and scowled at each other, circling and snarling like angry dogs, poised to fight. Now he reached out a hand to pull me into the cocoon of hay.

I scrambled in, but sheltered in a corner, unsure what to do next.

Aaron had no such hesitation, he pulled off his tee shirt, then toed off his trainers and pushed down his jeans and pants in one smooth movement.

He was naked.

He was beautiful.

I couldn't take my eyes from him. As I gazed, I saw the pale criss-cross lines of old scars across his stomach. He noticed me staring.

"It was a couple of years ago, I was in a bad place," he shrugged.

Of course, I knew what he was referring to, I'd heard the stories. Jackson, the lover so completely paralysed that Aaron held the poison to his lips as he drank. It struck me then; Donna had drunk her own draught of poison when she stepped off that roof. Maybe this was my knife.

I pushed thoughts of Donna aside.

"Do you still?" I ducked my head towards his stomach.

"No. Are you scared?"

"No."

Perhaps I protested too quickly; his smile quirked a little further. "If you really want to do this, you're wearing too many clothes."

My heart started hammering in my chest. How the fuck had I got here? This wasn't me, yet I couldn't deny I wanted it, that excitement flared through my body.

He stepped closer to me. I could feel the heat radiating from him and his cock—I was so aware of his cock, rock hard and a pearl of cum already glistening at his slit.

"Relax, let me help you." He closed the distance between us and reached out, clasping at the material of my thin jumper, pulling it upwards. I let him ease it over my head and from my arms. He kept his gaze steadily on my face, watching me, waiting for me to freak out.

His hands dropped to my waist, my jeans were still undone and he pushed them down, but left my boxers, preserving my modesty. He leant forward, gently placing a kiss, then began nibbling at my neck, tiny, arousing bites.

I tipped my head to one side, giving him more room. I don't know if that was the right thing to do, I was floundering, moving instinctively. He teased my neck a while longer, while his hands were busy pushing my jeans as low as he could get them. He paused, letting me kick my feet free. I groaned into him, only the thin material of my boxers preventing our cocks from sliding against each other. Every part of my body tensed and tingled, my skin singing every time he touched me. I wanted more.

"Lie down… if you're sure."

I dropped like a stone—and sat clutching my bent knees, terrified and needing in equal amounts.

"On your stomach," he said, his voice rough; I could hear the desire in it, sending a thrill through me.

I did as he said. He stretched out beside me and drew his fingers across the skin of my back, sending trail of electricity through me. Then he pushed my boxers down, pulling them from my feet and discarding them—somewhere. I didn't care; the feel of his hands cupping my arse was ramping up my desire.

"Turn over," he growled. I did, and he bent his head to my chest, taking my nipple into his mouth. Fuck! My fists clenched tightly, my back arched as I pushed into his mouth. Sensation after sensation gripped me, sent me soaring as he feasted on me, biting and sucking and laving each aroused nub. No woman I'd been with had ever teased them or played with them so much. Meanwhile, his hands were freely roaming my body. He found the inside of my thighs—so sensitive—I could do nothing but spread my legs a little wider at his touch, making it easier for him.

Suddenly, he left my nipples and for a moment I felt such an acute sense of loss that I almost whimpered at the end of such pleasure. But then he bent his head and took my cock in his mouth. Dear God but I almost came there and then! He licked me leisurely, tonguing my swollen head, sucking a little until he damned near drove me out of my mind.

I was so entranced by the sensation engulfing my cock that I almost missed the first time he touched my arse. Such a subtle caress, his finger barely pressing against my entrance as his mouth made me fly!

I was close. I could feel that certain tingle starting in the base of my spine, feel my balls starting to tense.

He stopped.

I gasped and lifted my head, wondering why. He had something in his hand, in the half-light I couldn't see properly.

"Lube," he said. "Always use it, makes... things easier."

He dropped the tube and moved to settle between my legs, opening me, exposing me more than I ever had been in my life. It was a heady, arousing feeling.

"You're stunning," he murmured, briefly trailing a finger down my abdomen and teasing the head of my rigid and weeping cock.

Somehow, he added lube to that finger before it reached my entrance, the sudden chill of the gel made me catch my breath. There was a moment of pressure then, oh God, the burn! Nothing the chill of the lube could diminish.

"Hush, relax," he gentled me, "just push against me, ever so slightly and let your body take me in."

I tried, holding my breath until suddenly pain and pleasure ripped through my body as he breached my virgin arse.

Leaning over me, he groaned, bending forwards to capture my mouth. He kissed me hard and suddenly there was no pain, only mounting pleasure flooding through me.

Without conscious thought, my hips eased upwards, demanding more of him. Responding, he began to move, easing his finger in and out, entering me in time to the rhythm I set.

He added a second finger, pleasuring me through the burn by nibbling my neck and biting my ear. In the tiny part of my brain that could make sense of his actions, I knew he was readying me to take his cock, but I was so hot, so aroused, that all my apprehension was forgotten.

Until he pushed a third finger into me and I cried out, lunging forward and burying my teeth into his shoulder to silence my agony. He didn't miss a beat, thrusting forcefully into me then something—he twisted, moved differently, I don't know—but suddenly stars were bursting from my body as such intense pleasure radiated from my groin of a kind I had never felt before.

He returned his mouth to my nipple, biting hard then soothing with his tongue, distracting me enough that I hardly noticed his fingers leaving my arse and his slick movements sheathing himself.

"You still want this?" he growled, "because I don't think I can wait any longer."

I opened my eyes. I could see the sweat beading on his brow with his effort to control himself. I nodded, unable to speak. My body had softened with his prolonged kisses and caresses; now I tensed, expecting the sharp burning pain to return.

Instead he changed position until he was kneeling between my splayed legs, my knees open high and wide, my arse almost lifted from the makeshift bed, exposing me completely. His eyes held mine and then he entered me. There was heat, an intense pressure filling me. I gasped, arching my back, giving him as much of me as I could. He went slowly, sliding in and out gently, giving me time to adjust. But now I needed more, instinct took over and I pitched my hips upwards, matching his thrusts.

His body covered mine, his hands gripping me, his lips and teeth biting and sucking at my skin, sending me higher than I had ever flown. He growled an apology a second before the speed and depth of his thrusts increased and our bodies found their natural animalistic rhythm.

I couldn't last. The explosions deep inside me at each hard thrust, the friction against my aching cock sent me flying over the edge and I came, my release aiding the sliding of our bodies against each other.

Seconds later, as spasms wracked me, he gave one last, punishing thrust and came inside me. I could feel the pulsing beat of his release reverberating through my body. I was shaking, not realising I was babbling nonsense until he began planting soft kisses across my neck and shoulders, muttering gentling, calming words.

The rafters and beams of the roof of the barn were covered with long trails of dusty cobwebs. I stared at them as I lay panting, getting my breath back. I felt light-headed and boneless. I'm sure my body would have been floating were it not for the solid weight of Aaron sprawled across me where he collapsed, breathing as heavily as I was.

Now it was over, doubt was beginning to creep in. I wanted it, I _had_ wanted it, I'd been as hot and eager as I ever had been for sex, but I wasn't...

"Stop thinking," murmured Aaron.

"What? I'm not..."

"I can hear you from here. It was sex, great sex, but it doesn't have to be anything more."

I could hear the warmth in his voice. It didn't help the muddle of thoughts running round in my head. Did this make me gay? Was I gay now? I hadn't been before—I'd never thought about boys, men, in _that_ way. I liked women, had enjoyed their softness and curves, but now... I skimmed my fingers lightly down Aaron's flank, the bit of him I could reach most easily. I could feel the sheen of sweat blooming across his skin as my fingers caressed the hard planes of his body.

"But what if I want it to be more?" I sighed.

He struggled to sit and looked at me. "Then it can be," he paused. "Don't be afraid of it, just enjoy it... and I think you enjoyed it..."

His eyes bore into me, catching the last of the light, luminously blue. He knew I had more than enjoyed it but...

He quirked an eyebrow at me. "It doesn't have to be with me. I know you hate me and you know I pretty much hate you."

I was about to protest that hate was too strong a word—now. Maybe before.

"The angry sex was hot. But just now...being your first… that was awesome."

The words that had been poised on my lips died. I didn't know what to say, what to think, I was one big mass of confusion and I knew I wouldn't be able to think straight with Aaron still lying comfortably at my side, his fingers still idly touching me while my arse ached with the unaccustomed intrusion.

I sat up and reached for my clothes, pulling them on. He lay and watched me, sending sparks of interest flaring along every nerve ending. But I had to go. I needed somewhere quiet and alone just to think. In a couple of hours, my whole world had tilted on its axis. It took some getting used to.

"Ross."

His voice stopped me as I was about to clamber from our nest.

"I don't actually hate you. Not really. I don't _really_ know you."

I swallowed. "I think I hated you, I blamed you, you know, for Donna. But now I don't even know if that was real. There was so much she didn't tell me. I think she had her own agenda."

He smiled at me, but there was an air of sadness to it, a resignation.

"I don't know if I can do this again..." I murmured.

"You don't have to make a decision, any decision, just now. I'm not going anywhere; you know where to find me."

"Yeah, doing my job!"

"I'll speak to Debbie, have a word. The garage is busy enough to need both of us full time."

"Thanks." I needed to go before my head exploded with over-thinking, before things got any more awkward. I scrambled over the hay walls and was almost at the door when he spoke again.

"Ross, you gave me a gift today—your body," he added at my puzzled look. "I'll remember… whatever happens."

I nodded once but the lump in my throat prevented me from speaking. I hauled the door open and lurched through. More than ever, I needed to get away. I didn't know what would happen in the future, whether I was gay or straight, bi or just plain curious. But what I did know was that I was at the beginning, not the end of this adventure.


End file.
